Heartworm
by silverivy13
Summary: A character study of Dio Brando and his relationship with Jonathan, told through Dio's POV.
1. I: Macbeth

**A/N: So this is my first character study so it definitely isn't perfect, but I've always found Dio to be a fascinating character. He's much more complex than what meets the eye and this is just an indulgent fic for me to attempt to portray the character in moments outside of the main story.**

**There are 14 different snippets that I wrote, all less than 1000 words, and I will be posting one each day for the next two weeks.**

**I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you guys enjoy!**

* * *

"_And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, _

_The instruments of darkness tell us truths."_

-Macbeth

...

A tall door, taller than he likely would ever be, towered over even the servant who held his suitcase in hand. Her flirty blue eyes had grown sullen since his dispute with Jojo, disturbed and confused by Dio's actions. Giving her a strong glower until she scurried out of his sight, Dio turned to the door and threw it open in a flourish. Dark wood gave way to dark walls and dark curtains holding back the sun from shining. A must filled the air, different from the grime that permeated the likes of the place which Dio had been subjected to his entire life.

Not a home, nay, never a home. Never.

Riddled with disuse from silent fingers that never scraped the surface of the varnished wood surrounding him. The sounds of footsteps retreating down the hall left Dio to his own devices in the new room that was supposed to be his. Deep crimson curtains were yanked away with no hesitation and sun flooded the room.

Dust floated in the air like pixie dust, a hazy hue decorating even the royal blue bed covers with a lazy sheen. It likely was as large as the entire attic room that man had confined himself and his son in when he had… grown ill.

Good. Large had always seemed to suit Dio.

Larger than life, who he had always been destined to become. Dio had never believed in such trifles as the likes of wishes or dreams could conjure up; he and him alone would be the maker of his own destiny. Dreams begot you to shambles, as he had seen with his own eyes many a time in the past. Such poor souls Dio refused to associate with.

Poor souls like that utter blunderbuss Jojo. Dio could tell the moment he laid eyes upon the dithering fool that he was of the type that he would always wholeheartedly abhor, a halfwit that sickened him to the core.

Friends? In all his years, life had never gifted a single one true; of what use were they now? What were friends but tools with which to obtain luxury? Nothing but stepping stones on the staircase that would lead to his fate. They would all see then.

He would show them.


	2. II: Sonnet 30

"_Most friendship is feigning, most loving is folly"_

-Sonnet 30

...

Sickening.

His boxing gloves were surely ruined now, as Dio ripped the leather garments from his hands in a frenzy, forgoing the laces in favor of brute force. The tingling feeling of Jojo's sensitive flesh warping beneath his clenched fingers remained, had stayed in perpetuity throughout the afternoon until he itched for one last punch.

Perhaps now, since the accusatory things had at last freed his hands from their confines, the insatiable sensation would disintegrate as well.

As his gaze shifted from his fingertips to the window, curtains half-drawn to reveal a setting sun over the rolling hills of the English countryside, a roiling disgust still threatened to brim over the surface of his cool facade.

Smiling and playing the fool, such horrid actions he was lowering himself to. Suppose he was lucky for all the prosperous examples of such imbeciles around him that acting became mere imitation. Still, it was appalling.

Such pathetic schoolboys they were, finding value in the strength of a fist instead of that of the mind. A pity for them that Dio would win a fight in either category. Muscles were but an extension of the mind, limbs with which to break and contort and destroy, with words, force, emotion, intelligence. If you could not see such things, then glory would never alight itself upon your doorstep.

The urge to mock Jojo of the standard of his 'friends' remained long into the month.


	3. III: Much Ado About Nothing

"_For he says she will die if you love her not,_

_And she will die ere she might make her love known."_

-Much Ado About Nothing

...

A girl. A _girl! _How dare he?!

How dare that insolent cur think for even a second that he, Dio, would ever allow such a thing to occur right underneath his nose?!

Laughing happily despite the loss of the peons he'd called 'friends,' despite the callous treatment by his own father, despite the certainty that he'd never match up to the standard Dio could set in his sleep. What insubordination. What mockery.

Jojo was supposed to be wallowing in his isolation, delving deeper into sorrow and misery with each break he took, and yet he seemed to be thriving under the attention of something as lowly as a _girl._ Dio supposed she was attractive, in an aesthetic sense, but what good was a relationship with such a creature? The sole product of such an affair was desolation, the kind Dio had borne witness to as his mother slowly succumbed to the filth that afflicted her very existence. The filth that had attempted to infect him as well.

If attraction was all it took, Dio was confident that he was far superior to that girl. She was but a child, a mere infant still within the blissful naivety of her youth. What innocence could possibly be above pure seduction, above the knowledge that you were wanted by others and could hover higher just out of their reach.

No, certainly there had to be something aside from the childish affection Jojo displayed for that wench, something deeper than the indecent feelings that lurked just underneath the surface of every prepubescent boy's consciousness. If it were merely those, Dio could manipulate Jojo's gaze towards himself, but any attempt at that had failed. Not that he had truly tried; the very thought of Jojo traipsing after him like a sick puppy, like those pathetic minions he had procured, sickened him.

It wasn't just the girl.

He could break her spirit easily enough, but what good did it do lest that break Jojo further? No, the brat must learn the true meaning of sorrow, the reality of being alone in the world with nary a friend in sight.

It wasn't just the girl he needed to get rid of.


	4. IV: Othello

"_And his unkindness may defeat my life,_

_But never taint my love."_

-Othello

...

Rain, such a proper setting for an occasion such as this. Although Dio knew Jojo would agree with him, for a drastically different reason.

What gloomy weather, how dreary a day, so fitting for the funeral of a person's most treasured friend. A lone grave under the tree the two first became friends near the river that almost took the life of Dio's most hated nemesis, a mourning boy who hadn't left the stone since ten in the morn, when the clouds first rolled in.

The pealing thunder and flashes of light splitting the sky began after everyone else had left, with only Jojo remaining beside the marker solemnly for hours. The knowledge that when he finally departed to cry and grieve alone in his bedroom filled Dio with joy.

Such foolishness.

How ironic that it would rain upon the grave of a dog that might have survived with a trivial thing such as water. Water that could put out the very flames with which Dio made sure would consume the filthy mongrel.

And Jojo was oblivious to this fact!

What a thrill. Perhaps this would teach that fool. Dio had known he was an imbecile, but to think that he would attack someone as mighty as Dio! That he would attempt to _win!_ What baseless nerve, what sheer disrespect, what blatant disregard for his opponent's superiority!

What gall.

How dare Jojo think that he could take Dio, take anything _from_ Dio, let alone victory. Let alone 'friends.' Let alone fun. Let alone love.

Just remembering that wench sickened him. How dare that whore think she would suit a man such as Jojo.


	5. V: Antony and Cleopatra

"_But you shall find the band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity." _

-Antony and Cleopatra

What was he doing here?

To think, he'd sworn to never return until the day he was buried ten feet below the earth, where nothing but the worms could consume him. Where he could leave these burning feelings beneath him and ascend.

"What is this?"

Ah, yes. The reason he was here. However petulant a reason it may be, this action could assure Jojo's heart, could assuage his feelings towards Dio's side. It required… lowering himself even further from his position in fate, but do it he must.

"A grave, Jojo. My… father's." He stifled the urge to vomit at the very notion of considering that man a father, a parent, a shared blood.

"Oh." Jojo's quiet voice beside him was unnaturally subdued and a moment later, Dio was certain his ploy had worked when the boy murmured, "I'm quite sorry."

"Please," Dio scoffed. "As if that man deserved a thing such as regrets. Pathetic excuse of a man he may have been, he was even worse a father. However, I wished to bring you here all the same."

"And why is that, if I may ask?"

"...Jojo, I wish to make amends." Dio felt the shock riddle the muscular body just behind him at his words. "I believe we did not start off on the right foot."

"I suppose that's one way to describe it," Jojo answered finally. He had stepped forward while speaking and Dio suppressed the instinct to break the boy's fingers when they alighted on his shoulder. Touch was not a welcome thing to Dio, lest it was a touch that revered him for who he truly was: a god.

"Indeed. All the same, they were but youthful actions on my part from the whims of a child who wished to ascend from poverty and leave it behind him." Verily so, his initial moves had been far too conspicuous, too easily traceable. Nothing pertaining to a long term plot, and he had been as much a fool as he could ever be at the start. But Dio would learn from this. A fool perhaps, but nay insane.

"Well, if this is your attempt at reconciliation," Jojo said slowly once he realized that Dio was done speaking, "then I will gladly accept it."

"And if this is but a cruel joke, a simple farce to mock you further?" Dio couldn't help but retort, once again astonished by Jojo's unwavering faith in what he could only assume was his own sense of 'good.' Then again, it was truly a Jojo concept to believe in, that a difference between good and bad actually existed. Such fooleries only adhered to an individual moral code, and Dio was beyond such things.

"Then I shall accept that as well." No hesitation was within Jojo's voice and Dio despised that. Despised it because it meant a sickening reality. "Dio, you are a brother to me. That is what father wished for us, and I intend to honor that. However difficult it may prove to be."

Dio resented the implications behind those words, as though it was Dio himself who had caused problems between them. How preposterous, that Jojo had ever presumed the two could exist in the same plane of reality for any second longer than Dio would allow them to. Still, to deny that or to refute him would mean to render his ploy moot.

"...When I was but a mere child," he began softly, a carefully practiced tone of sorrow and fragility that he had learned years ago setting in, "that man took to beating my mother. Quite violently, might I add, and he certainly enjoyed… _working _her. You see, my mother was quite the pearl at the bottom of the sea. However, she passed in squalor with nay a penny to her name."

Straightening up to stand tall, chin lifted towards the sun as he shrugged off Jojo's hand, relishing in the feeling of release it gave him, Dio turned to stare at him blankly with a faint twinkle in his eye as he murmured, "I refuse to suffer the same. I take after my mother, you see."

Dio began to stroll back through the graveyard, hands clasped behind his back as he waited for the brat to fully comprehend the meaning behind that phrase. The realization came at the same time as two strong arms encased him far too suddenly for his liking.

"You shall never, Dio. I promise you."

Promise? What good were those but false words easily broken? All the same, his ploy was successful and that was all that mattered. He could even force himself to stomach the bonds that were tightened around his chest ever so slightly when a sudden tremor rapt his frame. Where it came from, Dio knew not, but tremors were for the feebleminded, the delicate souls who felt things such as empathy and pain, not for destined glories such as himself.

Shoving his way out of the brute's grasp with as much force as he could muster, Dio strode the rest of the way to the carriage with his chin raised high. He had naught to be ashamed of, for this was not admitting weakness so much as manipulating his opponent's emotions. The birdie was in Jojo's court now, and Dio was certain he knew of what would occur. Jojo would fall hook, line, and sinker for his past. They always did.

…

…so that was a hug. How disgustingly intimate.


	6. VI: King John

"_Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale,_

_Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man."_

-King John

...

Dio shifted in his seat at the pub, glowering down at the pint before him while attempting to make heads or tails of his next move. The mask was in his possession but Jojo had yet to return from Ogre Street.

Was he dying? Being slaughtered horribly by the brutes that lurked 'round every corner of that unsavory division of London that Dio had grown to know like the back of his hand? Surely, that had to be the case. How wondrous that would be- but heinous all the same. The mere thought that someone aside from he, Dio, could murder the thorn in his side that had plagued him for years was a horrid one.

His own prey, stolen from under his nose. Much as he wished for that, the idea of such a crime sickened him.

"Never any friendship between us, hm…" he mused to himself as he took another long swig from the glass. "How astute of you, Jojo. What friendship could there be between us when you and I are the sun and the moon? No, that is far too kind of a description for you, a man who is like the shit staining my boot."

He laughed sharply, a cold rattling sound that to another's ears could be mistaken for charming. "How poetic. A piece of shit attempting to stomp me out."

A loud crash echoed throughout the pub as he stood suddenly, the beer stein that was in his hand thrown against the wall beside him. Shattering from the force, glass rained down upon the ground beneath it, stray pieces flying back at Dio. Still he stood, firm as a hundred year oak in the face of a fifty kilometer an hour wind, and nary a fragment cut him.

But of course, for he was to be a God on earth. How could such measly things disfigure him?

A few pounds were flicked towards the stunned barkeep as he turned on his heel and strode from the pub, plotting his next move as another long sip was drawn from the bottle he carried out with him


	7. VII: Measure for Measure

_"Reason thus with life:_  
_If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing,_  
_That none but fools would keep."_  
-Measure for Measure

...

Dio hadn't understood the first moment he'd seen it. A stone mask couldn't possibly light up, it simply wasn't possible according to the laws of nature. However, it all made perfect sense now, now that the laws of nature no longer bound him down to their rules.

The blinding light of that cold stone was the sun shedding a glimpse of the glory it would surely bring him, the new dawn shining down upon his rule. The earth would be in shambles and from it, he would rise from the ashes like a glimmering golden phoenix.

Who needed the sun when the night would always be there? The sun could implode any second, could be dying at that very moment and would one day burn out entirely. But the night? It would always come. For when the sun vanished, the dark would consume.

And he, Dio, would wear it as a cloak, the moon the shining crown atop his head with the stars heralding him as their new king.


	8. VIII: As You Like It

"_And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe._

_And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;_

_And thereby hangs a tale."_

-As You Like It

...

How strange it was to pull layer upon layer of skin away from his sickening burns and to feel nothing but a faint pulling sensation. Such ugly wounds did not suit a being like him, and while the wait for a supple, fertile female was far too long for his liking, his fascination was held through experimenting with this new immortality.

Pain… pain had seemed such a dangerous foe, any enemy that even one such as Dio had been unable to defeat despite his efforts. Perhaps it had been the one thing he had truly feared, a perpetual entity within his life that had plagued his mortal existence.

Ah yes, mortality… how very droll it all seemed now to a god unable to die like himself. His own mortality had seemed like a simple drawback, yet another hurdle to overcome on his path to fate. And now, here he stood on the precipice of glory with nary a sway to hold him back.

Dio had mused for quite some time that morality could only exist within mortality; after all, a single 't' separated the two words, giving them different yet intertwining meanings that refused to be truly distinct. His sense of morality had long been suppressed- nay, that was the wrong word. Perhaps it had never existed at all.

To watch the world move to the inner workings of a larger concept of right and wrong, of justice and crime that the majority adhered to wholeheartedly had amused Dio greatly for years now. Who was to decide the difference between the two? Who was the one to say 'this is right' while being quick to accuse 'your actions are wrong.' Would that not be hypocritical to a man with opposite inclinations? What foolish, human concepts they were.

He was beyond such commodities, far above them and out of reach of the mundane world. This newfound power would bring him wealth and fortune, for surely this was his fate from the start.

Destiny had always favored the lucky.

Perhaps that was why he had been unable to kill Jojo thus far.


	9. IX: Hamlet

"_To die, to sleep;_

_To sleep: perchance to dream,"_

-Hamlet

...

The feeling of a single drop of water against his burning skin had remained weeks after his assumed demise. Evaporating instantly from the intense heat, Dio was certain that tear, that fragment of the humanity he had left behind him the day he chose to poison the man that was his father, had persisted within him.

Not a memento, but a reminder of something he could have become. A path he refused to walk along when given an endless number of chances.

He would not have done a thing differently.

'_Jojo… you mourned for me…'_

To think his mortal enemy would shed tears for what was presumed to surely be his fate… Dio was moved. Perhaps he had been wrong about the noble fool. Perhaps that nobility was worthy of respect all the same.

To show his utmost respect, to honor the man's bravery, Dio would allow him to live forever at his side, as a part of himself.

'_You told me humans evolve,'_ Dio thought to himself. He had endless time to think nowadays, moreso now that he awaited his chance to take the body he rightfully deserved. '_I disagree, Jojo. It was not humans that evolved with you, no they stood back and watched like the cowardly worms they are. Nay, not humans, but _you. _You exceeded my expectations, Jojo, and for that I commend you.'_

"Fate is inevitable. It will not save you."


	10. X: Romeo and Juliet

"_Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,_

_Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth."_

-Romeo and Juliet

...

Fire.

Once again, it was fire.

How fitting that would be, that both attempts to end his existence would be with the flames he had used to consume that which Jojo cherished most all those years ago. How fitting that they would try to destroy that which Dio cherished as well.

_Jojo. Jonathan Joestar. I never understood you. You never understood me. We are opposites, our very nature going against the other's. We could never exist as two separate entities, and thus was your fate to perish here._

_For I, Dio, am eternal._

_But I require a body. And I refuse to allow this to be your end. A man such as you, Jojo, a being who I could never get along with, deserves nothing less than a proper burial. There is no honor in going down with this ship._

_These goals just happen to align; you shall accompany me to the end of days, Jojo, and stay beside me for all of time._


	11. XI: The Tempest

"_That when I waked,_

_I cried to dream again"_

-The Tempest

...

Modernity. A triviality that he never thought much of in the past until he awoke nearly a hundred years later. He would always live in modern times, would always watch the ever-changing human society beneath him as it progressed in an attempt to climb to greater heights with each passing year, decade, century.

Dio - no, DIO - had achieved ultimation, and no one could touch him now.

Humanity was doomed to grovel before him as he consumed their civilization and reshaped it, warped it to suit his own whimsy. And DIO, he would laugh.

It had grown boring, to have such pathetic followers that were so far beneath him. The lifeforms beside him now were an improvement from the puny weaklings before, though most could hardly be called that.

Vanilla, he… he was an enigma. Even DIO had been a bit perturbed by his wholehearted devotion at first, such a new feeling it was. Minions he had received, worshippers none- none worthy of recognition, that is.

Wang Chan had been loyal but he was too self-assured, too certain in his own methods to truly obey DIO's order. How dare he attempt to kill Jojo himself, when his value was less than a hundredth of the man's in question.

Jack… Jack, the foolish lunatic. His blind confidence had rendered his own undoing. Too proud, too sure, too thick-skulled to know his true place in the world. That there were always men more than he.

A fanatical devotee such as Vanilla Ice was the kind DIO deserved, the kind who recognized his divine status and worshipped him as such, the kind with a calm head and a level mind, the kind who didn't hesitate to give his all for his master.

He had received a following for his grandeur the likes of which Jojo would have grieved for, all the 'poor souls' led astray from the path of righteousness. A sizeable mansion that would rival that of the old man Joestar's former glory. Riches and women beyond his wildest frenzies.

DIO had so much, and yet…

"…so this is what a world without you looks like."


	12. XII: Richard II

"_So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,_

_So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."_

-Richard II

...

The realization came the same day DIO gave D'Arby the Elder his mission. He was about to send the fool on his way when the sudden question came without cause, no true reason behind it other than the notion of the bet.

"Dio-sama, if I may," D'Arby the Elder paused in the doorway as DIO's golden gaze flicked to him. No motions were made, but his silence was permission enough for the lower man to continue. "Should I succeed in my mission, I would like you to tell me of that skull you keep beside you."

"And why, pray tell, would I bequeath anything to you?" DIO mused, bored yet vaguely intrigued all the same. This was why he gave his minions a small bit of free will; being able to predict every move of a pawn ruined the fun of the game. "I allow you to keep your life, is that not enough for you?"

"It's but the spirit of the game, DIO-sama," D'Arby replied quickly, flicking a card from his sleeve and spinning it up above him in an extravagant manner before grabbing it out of midair. "No intentions more than that."

"I see. Then perhaps. Now leave my sight before I get sick of the sight of you."

D'Arby the Elder paled slightly and scurried from the room. DIO watched him go before turning to stare at the skull sitting on a pedestal off to the side of the room. A glass cover kept it in pristine condition, the shimmering white bone illuminated in the candlelight.

It simply hadn't seemed just to discard Jojo's head after he had claimed his body, taking the head into the coffin with him. When he had awoken, the skull of Jojo was the first thing he'd seen, the only thing that remained to serve of the man's existence. After all, his body had disappeared with the boat as far as the world was concerned.

"Forgive my brother, Lord DIO," D'Arby the Younger drawled from the corner of the room, drawing DIO's attention away from the remnant of Jojo. "He has always been too gambling a man, with too many things he wanted. It makes him weak."

"There is nothing wrong with desiring more, D'Arby," DIO replied. "It was, after all, desires that allowed me to where I am now."

"Of course, Lord DIO," Telence said quickly, bowing deeply to the blond. "...If I might ask, who is it? The skull?"

"Nothing but an old acquaintance," DIO mused after a few seconds of pondering the question itself. Telence nodded again before turning from his side and leaving the room. For what, DIO cared not; what his servants did was beneath him unless he commanded them to his side for whatever reason.

His thoughts circling around Jojo more than he would care to admit, he murmured, "An old friend, perhaps. In another lifetime."


	13. XIII: A Midsummer Night's Dream

"_Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,_

_And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."_

-A Midsummer Night's Dream

...

"Lord DIO, one of the livestock is attempting to escape."

The words came as a bit of a shock to DIO; as far as he knew, each and every woman that he kept in the manor as a food supply was more than willing to stay by his side. So what if he killed a few of them each week, they lived in luxury, charmed by a charismatic playboy that sent them to Heaven with a mere glance in their direction.

A few had become pregnant, and DIO had found their blood was richer that way, thicker and sweeter with an extra life inside of them, and so had begun to work his way through their ranks to achieve more of that divine taste. Jojo certainly had as much vigor as DIO had imagined him to have.

The women were no better than cattle to him, no perhaps even less than that. Cattle had a role, an importance in society to sustain his food source. What use were those women aside from feed? What importance did they hold when there were millions else just outside of his reach, ripe and ready to be plucked from the vine and devoured.

"Which one?"

"The Japanese, my Lord," Vanilla continued. "I believe her name was Shiobana? You enjoyed her dark hair."

"Ah, yes, that one…" DIO could barely recall the woman's face, the features blurred together into a mask of something that was likely pretty but that paled in comparison to the likes of he, DIO. Her hair was the reason he remembered her at all; such dark, brown locks that reminded him of something.

He had denied that he had a pension for the dark-haired ones, but Vanilla Ice had caught on all the same and began to only bring him women with shades of brown and black atop their heads. Why the color intrigued him so, DIO didn't know.

It was in the rare moments that he closed his eyes, hands entwined in dark hair, that the sex tasted all the sweeter, the moment of climax that much richer.

"Should I hunt her down, Lord DIO?"

Ah, yes. The woman. "...No. She may go."

"Yes, my Lord." Vanilla disappeared again, off to go do whatever the strange man did when he wasn't adhering to DIO's every whim.

If DIO closed his eyes, he could picture that dark hair as he raked his pale fingers through it.


	14. XIV: Julius Caesar

"_Men at some time are masters of their fates:_

_The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,_

_But in ourselves, that we are underlings."_

-Julius Caesar

The end came so suddenly. Was this how it was for mortals? To see their own demise and be unable to prevent a thing? Had it truly been so long since the sun had touched his skin? So long since burning pain consumed his flesh?

…And was this the sun Jojo had seen all those years ago?

What splendor. It seems DIO had forgotten the warmth it brought with it. The warmth he had an aversion to from the very start, for it reminded him of a feeling he never received from another. Perhaps, had he been raised with love, would he have been different?

No, this was surely his fate. To greatness he had risen, and from Heaven he had been doomed to fall, a slave to gravity after all this time.

Time slowed although their Stands were withdrawn.

Jotaro seemed to glow in the sunlight, shining brighter than DIO had ever seen a man shine before as his body crumbled apart. For a moment, he glimpsed the face of Jonathan beside the teen, an expression of nothing but love staring at the one who had taken everything from him.

"Come, Dio," he said in the same voice that had screamed and cursed and forgiven his name nearly a century ago. "It's time to go home."

'_Jojo… I return to you at last.'_

…

"_And whether we shall meet again I know not._

_Therefore our everlasting farewell take._

_Forever and forever farewell, Cassius._

_If we do meet again, why, we shall smile._

_If not, why then this parting was well made."_

-Julius Caesar


End file.
